


Time Enough

by Alona



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 11:14:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12167757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alona/pseuds/Alona
Summary: Míriel has an uncommon experience of time.





	Time Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Isilloth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isilloth/gifts).



Time for the Eldar was not a line. What had come before was a rich tapestry that they might revive and walk once more in memory; the time they lived in was fluid, malleable, passing unmarked except by joyful celebration. The time that lay ahead, all the days and years and ages of Aman, was as a fine, misty prospect. 

One there was who felt time more closely and marked it. This was Míriel, called Serindë, who in the Blessed Realm became the wife of Finwë and queen of the Noldor. She was the first to practice the art of needlecraft, and she marked time with each of her fine stitches. Her attendants flattered her: at her work, they said, singing nonsense to herself, she might have been a queen of the Valar; it was as if, in the words of one who was a poet of standing among the Noldor, the stars came closer to the earth when Míriel worked, to illumine and refine her. 

Míriel knew nothing of that and was made uneasy by such talk. She preferred to receive praise for the work itself. Indeed, she did feel something come closer to her when she plied her needle: time, rushing ahead and carrying her forward. Long had she felt its presence in a manner her kindred did not. It had begun when she still abode by the shores of Cuiviénen, when Míriel with the rest of the Eldar had first seen and loved the stars; the whisper of the current had been muffled during the journey to Valinor, by the excitement of going ever onwards; and then it had returned, and it came to her most clearly when she wrought beautiful things, which was what she loved best. 

She believed she had first seriously considered the High King's suit when he had betrayed, all in innocence, that he felt impatient to be doing and making in Aman. They were not otherwise alike in temperament, but this restlessness they shared. Yet Míriel spoke not to her husband of her own feeling. 

She told no one of it openly. For a stretch she was drawn often to walk the gardens of Lórien, to speak with the spirits there, and with those who sought healing and refreshment. It was still and full of peace in the gardens, but she was not comforted. Once Irmo, the master of dream, spoke to her, asking what she sought. 

"If I knew I would not be here seeking it, lord," Míriel replied. 

And she did not go to the gardens of Lórien again, until it was for the last time.


End file.
